


Loony

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Gotham (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Arkham Asylum, Borderline Personality Disorder, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Hallucinations, Jealousy, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Pining, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Regret, Schizophrenia, Unrequited Crush, endgame nygmob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: An au where Sherlock's sociopathic nature is more unsettling and he gets locked up in Arkham, asylum for the criminally insane.There a not so old buddy of his in there, who also didn't get along with the GCPD.The Edlock is an all-pining and grieving past opportunities.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Sherlock Holmes/Edward Nygma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Loony

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I obsessed with Edlock? Who knows? 
> 
> Anyway in this universe Sherlock got sick of boring crimes in London and heard of the most crime ridden city in the Western world and decided to consult in Gotham, thinking that it would be more fun. 
> 
> Gotham being gotham is not that friendly to folks who don't act NT and most of the GCPD doesn't like him at all, to the point that he gets put in Arkham for a minor offense that he could've gotten off with bail on.

Arkham asylum was for insane criminals. Sherlock Holmes thought of himself as neither of those two identifiers.

Despite shooting holes into his wallpaper, breaking and entering into several apartments, houses, and businesses to "find evidence".

Captain whatever his first name Barnes had finally snapped and had him arrested, and after a shrink's "evaluation" he was sent to Arkham with a flimsy diagnosis.

Antisocial personality disorder and narcissistic personality disorder.

He didn't think he was an extreme case, after all, he was a _high-functioning_ sociopath. He'd even told most of the idiots at the GCPD just that.

He was put in a horribly itchy uniform with fat, horizontal black and white stripes. B221 was the number patched onto his uniform.

He caught glimpse of a familiar face as he was escorted to his cell.

Edward Nygma. Who was, as Sherlock knew, both insane and criminal.

_Obsessive Complusove Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, schizophrenia._

Sherlock had read his file shortly after Nygma's incarceration, searching for the deduction he had missed. Searching for what turned the quiet and meek man into a bomber, vandal, and murderer.

Now Nygma watched him with a cruel smile. Like he'd predicted Sherlock's incarceration. (He had.)

The smug bastard had known that the brainless officers and detectives of the GCPD would turn on him because of his dislike of polite niceties, and useless small talks, sharing information et cetera. Nygma had known that his superior intellect and his forthcoming on that mark would drive a wedge between the filthy police department and they would stop trusting his genius.

Sherlock knew he wasn't likable, there was no sense in trying to be. It distracted from the real important things, like the case, or as he liked to call it; the chase. Finding clues and connecting them through a web of information and alibis always seemed to map out itself in his mind like a winding chase, the path being hidden from imperceptive eyes.

But still, Nygma had predicted this. That they'd turn on him and deign him unfit for working on cases and lock him up, where anyone who thought differently than the mindless oafs went.

"So much for your superior intellect, though honestly, you'd think after I warned you, the great Sherlock Holmes might elect to change his ways at least a little bit," the voice mocked, no doubt echoing from the hall and into his cell from Nygma's own. Not that the walls seemed too terribly thick or any good at muffling noise.

Sometimes (which turned to oftentimes) Nygma would say things that might make a normal, boring person care. 

"I thought you were my friend, what a joke...even you couldn't stand me,"

"I thought I'd finally have someone to talk to, where I didn't have to dumb myself down or pretend to be normal. But you didn't have time to talk pathetic little Eddie Nygma,"

"I wanted to know you so badly, almost as badly as I wanted you to want to know me," 

"Why did I think you would see me? You hardly gave me a passing glance."

"Murder was definitely my best life choice, can't glance over me anymore, can you?" 

There are many similarities throughout the admittances. Nygma always sounds bitter, with a border of mirth and pain, and just the slightest hint of grief. 

Not that Sherlock cared. Emotions were petty matters, too little for his focus. (At least, that's what he told himself).

(That he didn't sympathize with the only intelligent mind he'd listened to in years).

(That some small part of him didn't burn with his companion's pain). 

(That he was concerned when Nygma argued with himself, at the crash of breaking glass and hissing through teeth.)

(That he was worried when Nygma's talking grew infrequent). 

(That he was jealous of the Penguin).

He could admit to himself that he wished Nygma would not talk of the gangster.

(But not the reason).

Sherlock didn't like how sincere Nygma sounded as he boasted of the _real_ companionship Oswald Cobblepot gave. How it wasn't a mockery. 

The Penguin sent Nygma gifts, a tin of shortbread cookies, a sweater, a scarf, a puzzle box that took him eight seconds to solve. 

He didn't like that Edward Nygma found the Penguin to be an intellectual equal. One whom he enjoyed talking to. 

Sherlock Holmes may have been upset to see Edward Nygma released from Arham Assylum into the limousine and arms of the Penguin. 

A quick call to Mycroft and he was out of the poor excuse for a rehabilitating center for mentally ill criminals. (It was boring without Nygma).

"Are you hiring?" He asked, appreciating how much better Nygma looked now that he was no doubt well fed and well rested. The assistant campaign manager scowled, grabbing him about the forearms and dragging him into a secluded dining room. 

"What are you doing here?" Nygma huffed, wrinkling his olive suit jacket. (Which fit him better than any of the suits he'd worn in the GCPD's employment). 

Edward didnt let him answer, "you know what, I don't care! How did you get out of Arkham anyway?"

"A favor from Mycroft," 

"So you could've just called your big brother to bail you out at any time?" Nygma was smiling but not with any joy or mirth, it was disbelief. He pushed up his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to prevent an oncoming migraine. 

"You were right, when you said I shouldn't try to summarize a person into a glance..." Sherlock revels is how Nygma's eyes search his face, "I want to know you, to see you," 

Edward laughs. He laughs at him. Not the anticipated reaction. 

"You've got all the tools but one to make a fine comedian," he starts, the mirth bitter in his words, "your timing is horrendous." 

"So there was really a time for us?"

"Us? Maybe you should have thought about that before I lost my mind and got sent Arkham!" He's angry it seems, the disbelief and pain just behind it. "How did they let you out of there? Clearly, you're still quite loony!" 

And as much as he doesnt want to admit it, the words hurt. 

He leaves the Van Dahl Mansion then Gotham. 

He keeps track of the election, and Edward. 

The "former" kingpin wins by a landslide, immediately hiring Edward as his chief of staff. 

Two days later Nygma is in the hospital with a crushed windpipe, Cobblepot at his bedside. The pictures though. 

(They leave him buring inside). 

Edward looks so happy in a criminal's arms. So devoted and focused and lovesick. 

(It hurts, deep down, and he won't admit it).

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, this fandom is quite small, but it can still be sociable and friendly!
> 
> FIRST FIC OF THE NEW YEAR


End file.
